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Sunday, July 13, 2008

Reading helped me develop my own voice as a writer. I sat at the feet of the masters: Anne Lamott, Christopher Moore, Martha Beck. Wally Lamb, Rebecca Wells, and yes, even Jane Austen. These writers made me laugh, cry and yearn to express myself. I wrote stories, some I even finished. I wrote bad poetry. I wrote in my journal. I wrote my heart.

In 1995, I found the Internet. And with it, an entire smorgasbord of information available at a moment's notice. I was in heaven. I admit that books took a backseat to the 24-hour library with no due date. I still found time for reading, that is, until my children were born. Fiction-reading gave way to books on baby care, prematurity, child development, and in time, autism, sensory integration disorder, giftedness. I didn't notice my fiction reading was waning. I was too busy. As my children grew, I introduced them to the library. Once they could write their names on the card, a whole new world opened up to them. And me, once again. I would check out books and, due to being busy, would return most unread. Poor, sad books...

Skip to the present...my blog and my writing take up a lot of space in my life. There doesn't seem to be time to read fiction. I read now for information. I read for homeschooling, I read for autism and behavior and web design. But for the most part, extra time is devoted to my writing. I rarely watch television anymore.

On Sundays after church, we often go to the bookstore to buy each of the kids a new book. I love the bookstore. I love the smell of new pages. I love the sound and the atmosphere. I love watching kids reading. And I admit, I buy books, too. For though I rarely read anymore, my heart didn't get the memo. I buy books I don't read. I have every intention of reading them when I buy them, and might get through the first few chapters, but I will get distracted fairly quickly. Real Life is a fickle lover, and he demands much of my time. There just isn't much time left over for Books. Right now, I see the book, sitting on the bench across the room. It gives me a baleful stare. "I hold great delights for you, m' lady..." Yes, books talk this way. You didn't know? You have to listen... "Come, enter me and find your bliss." And I shake my head, wave it off, yet again, in favor of the dishes or the laundry or writing.

I have a new love. It is love of the written word. Of this person: Jenn and this one: Jenn and this one: Ken and of course, this person (like she needs my little link for popularity, but she is still an influence, so I include her) Jenny And I hope to add to the conversation. The word that I write; that I so tenderly place on the page, I set it there like the newborn babe that it is. It needs care and attention. I write. I read. I rewrite. Because I? Am a wordsmith. And someday, those rectangular obelisks will contain my words. And with them, a part of me.

5
sent chocolate:

I followed you and the other peeps from Erin's chat on Ustream tonight...it was fun while it lasted! I lost you all after you transferred to Stickam, because it hates me apparently.

But I followed you on Twitter, and found you had a blog, so here I am! I hope this isn't sounding stalkerish. Because I'm totally the opposite of stalkerish :)

I am a HUGE book whore. Always have been. And I've recently fallen for blogs (and blogging) too. So we've got that in common. And, get this, I was a homeschooler! All the way from 2nd grade through 8th grade. Then I tried private school for 1 1/2 yrs, hated it, knew I could get more done on my own...so I went back to homeschooling, and took classes at a college nearby (that I now attend full-time, I'll be a sophomore in the fall). I'm going for a degree in nursing, hoping to work in NICU, Peds, L&D, something of that nature.

Anyways, not like you asked for my life story in a comment (sorry, you can shoot me now) but I just wanted to say hi. Since, ya know, I've been watching you talk for the past 30 minutes ;)

hmm... who inspired me to write. i'm not sure any one person in particular, but i know that writing - telling my stories, crafting words, etc. - has been important to me pretty much for as long as i can remember. i am in love with the power and magic of language, and i express that mostly with writing. my writing these days generally takes its form in blogging, but i love writing in any form. :)

and yeah, you know i followed you over from the chat too. so good to "meet" you there!

I seem to be inspired by whichever author I'm reading at the moment, but the biggest inspiration was John Steinbeck. Not that I could even hope to live up to that ideal, but when I'm reading Steinbeck, I notice that my writing definitely improves.

Like you, I read my way through several libraries and was never without a book in my hand.

I tried to instill a love of reading in my children, but none of them seem to have the same passion I have--I can't imagine not having at least 2, and probably more, books going at the same time.

I can't really say who inspired me to write. I just found it an easy way to express myself in a nice normal healthy manner. Sometimes I have a ton going through my head and I use my blog as a way to release all of it before my head implodes.

And now your children can express the same memories that you wrote about in Part I. I know that book stores and the library and reading were such a big part of my life, and I can not wait till I can impart that on to my offspring as you are doing.